Sixth Sunday of Easter Year A, May 21, 2017; The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz
Acts 17:22-31 In [God] we live and move and have our being.
1 Peter 3:13-22 Always be ready to make… an accounting for the hope that is in you.
John 14:15-21 If you love me you will keep my commandments.
O God of Love, may we have the wisdom, the strength, and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth – come when it may and cost what it will.
Signs of endings are all around us – the end of the school year, the end of another wonderful cantata season, graduations and completions of all kinds are markers on the chronological timelines of our lives. And yet, in our Gospel reading for this morning, chronological time seems to have come nearly to a stop and time seems to be folding: past, present and future are not so clearly marked. It’s taken from what is called Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse.” Jesus’ valedictory speech comprises a full one-fifth of the whole Gospel of John, and takes place in the evening before Jesus’ nighttime arrest. This portion of Jesus’ parting words remind me of the instructions that my mother used to leave when I was in high school before my parents went away for a trip (and I always feared that they would leave us orphaned). I am the oldest child, so the list was accompanied by my mom’s admonition for me to use my best judgment. Okay, fine, I would think, I will, but do you know my brothers and my sister?
Those of you who have heard me preach, know that I am endlessly fascinated by literature – both in the broad landscape of genre and form, and in the weeds of word choice and punctuation. In terms of literature, the four chapters of the Farewell Discourse are cast in the most popular Jewish literary genre of the time. There are also Greco-Roman and Gnostic influences here, but the essential Jewishness of this text is important to highlight, with its emphasis on love as the center of the life of the community. Christians imitated and adopted the Jewish emphasis of love as the core value, the organizing principle of the people of God. [1]
Jesus says to his closest followers, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” The word ‘keep’ here (teyreyo in Greek) means watch over, attend to carefully, hold dear. You will attend to my commandments carefully. You will hold dear my commandments. And what are Jesus’ commandments according to John? In the Gospel of John, Jesus gives a lot of teaching speeches, but says very few things that he says could be called commandments (and what gets called “The Great Commandment,” is not mentioned in the Gospel of John at all). There are, however, ten things that Jesus said in the Gospel of John that could be considered commandments. It’s a pretty good list. Here they are in order of appearance:
- Do not complain among yourselves. (Jn. 6:43)
- Do not judge by appearances. (Jn. 7:24)
- Anyone among you who is without sin, be the first to throw a stone (at the woman caught in the act of adultery…. No one threw any stones, by the way.) (Jn. 8:7)
- Walk while you have light, so that the darkness may not overtake you…while you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light. (Jn. 12:35-36)
- Wash one another’s feet. (In John, there is no commandment to remember Jesus in the context of a meal with bread and wine) (Jn. 13:14)
- Love one another. (Jn. 13:34)
- Love one another. (Jn. 13:34)
- Love one another. (Jn. 13:35) (this is not new, by the way, it’s old)
- Do not let your hearts be troubled. (Jn. 14:1)
- Believe in God, believe also in me…but if you don’t believe in me, believe in my works. (Jn. 14:1-11)
- there’s a kind of a bonus commandment at the end of the Gospel, given to Peter after Jesus’ death, that we might understand as being for the church universal: “feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep.”
Why would an extra commandment be a good thing? Well because the word for commandment (mitvah in Hebrew) and (entolay in Greek) doesn’t mean in either language quite what we tend to think in terms of a demand or a constraint. Rather a mitzvah or an entoláy is a charge or a commission – an indication of intentionality – an expression of divine desire or longing and a statement of divine faith in people – a statement of belief, a creed, that people can do the right thing if we’re told what the right thing is. I often say that the amazing thing about the First and Second Testaments is that they are a vast collection of stories of God believing in people against all odds, in spite of a mountain of evidence that it’s people who are unbelievable!
A commandment in the Bible really is not a finger-shaking kind of order. It’s a behest – an urgent ask –that describes what God hopes for God’s people and what it means to be God’s people. And the best clues to that are in the verbs – the action words. In the commandment “love one another,” the verb love is in a form [2] which indicates continuing action. Grammatically, the verb is not in the form of a demand or an imperative. So too, in Hebrew, commandments to love are in the imperfect tense (which indicates incomplete action). If you love me, Jesus says, you will be loving one another (it’s a description of the future rather than an edict). When you are loving one another, that’s what loving Jesus is, that’s what loving God is, according to John. It’s all of a piece. Another way of putting it is that keeping commandments is not a condition but a sign. It’s not a sophomoric, “if you love me you will prove it by doing everything I ask.” It’s more like, “if you are planting impatiens, you will water them.” “If you are loving me,” Jesus is saying, “you will be loving one another.”
Jesus’ commandments are the signs or consequences of the central commandment – the most important commandment of the Torah – the Sh’ma which is in the form of a direct order. The command is this: Listen. Listen very deeply. Hear. God only – or God [is] one. The most pressing direction in the Torah is to listen to and for the Holy One. The promise is that when you listen so deeply, you will love God and you will love one another. That’s what happens when you listen with your whole being, with your whole life force, according to the Torah. Indeed, the exercise of love is a sign that you’ve been paying careful attention – that you have been attending carefully, that you’ve been listening deeply. The theology is quite circular here – listening deeply results in loving. Loving enhances listening. Loving God and loving neighbor is the way to loving Jesus. Loving Jesus is a way of listening to God.
Now inevitably, the question comes up, well what if I don’t? It’s related to the questions What if I can’t? and What if I don’t want to? Their corollaries are: he’s not doing it! and she’s not even trying! (And of course, this wouldn’t have had to be written down if everyone had been keeping Jesus’ commandments. Have you ever noticed what happens to love when either fear or self-righteousness takes over? [3] Have you ever noticed what happens to love when resources seem scarce or winning becomes most important?) Jesus’ answer in this passage is that God’s spirit will advocate on our behalf (as Jesus has been doing). And I think that this spirit will also advocate on God’s behalf (as Jesus has also been doing – because God clearly needs an advocate as well.) This holy spirit is an advocator, advisor, counselor, consoler, exhorter, encourager, appealer, helper, champion.
The Spirit in this passage can be understood to be all of those things (and more), which is to say, whatever is needed to support the mission. Jesus is saying to his followers, “I will not leave you orphaned.” Here the word in Greek is orphanous, so it’s tempting to translate it narrowly, but it literally means helplessly bereft, not just technically without parents. Jesus will not leave his followers helplessly bereft. I am persuaded by Mark Davis that a better way to translate Jesus saying, “I am coming to you,” is “I am entering you.” [4] Jesus is reminding them that his presence and the Spirit of Truth is in them, even if it is hard to see or feel in a community being torn apart by conflict and by fear, which is one of the things we suspect was happening to the community for which the Gospel of John was written.
It’s a funny illustration, but I’m reminded of a clumsy way I tried to communicate this to my oldest daughter when she was in 8th grade (8th grade is rough). We were having an epic argument (like kids in 8th grade have with their parents) and she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door so hard that a picture came off the wall shattering the glass. (very dramatic) I yelled something like, “come out here right now.” She responded, “No. I don’t want to hear your voice.” I shouted, “Well that’s too bad because I’m your mother and my voice is already in your head. You’re going to hear it even after I’m dead.” (Jesus did this so much better than I ever could.) Thankfully, Sarah and I have lived long enough and well enough that these days, she is grateful for my voice in her head. That doesn’t always work with mothers and daughters (or sons or fathers).
So for you, it might not be the voice of a parent, it might be a beloved mentor or friend, a voice in your head that connects with the love in your heart to become the Spirit of Truth in your soul, that is an advocator, advisor, counselor, consoler, exhorter, encourager, appealer, helper, champion – that leads you to brave and loving actions that do justice to the dignity of every human being, holding the teachings of Jesus dear, carefully attending to them. It’s also true of the voices in the head of this parish that connect with the love in the heart of this parish to become the Spirit of Truth in the soul of this parish – this Emmanuel Church in the City of Boston. Listen deeply because the voice of the spirit of truth is expansive and liberating, showing the life and love-giving ways forward when all we can see are narrow places, tight spots and hard endings. We can know the voice of the spirit of truth best, most clearly within our communities of accountability (the parish is one, and I know many of you have others), in the rhythm of action and reflection, in the din and in the quiet. We can, in the words of 1 Peter, make an accounting for the hope that is in us with gentleness and reverence, and move bravely into the future.